


The Wanderers

by Pigeon_theoneandonly



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigeon_theoneandonly/pseuds/Pigeon_theoneandonly
Summary: Thirteen years ago, templars abducted the young mage Kaidan Alenko from his home village and took him Kinloch Hold.  His best friend, Nathaly Shepard, was the only person to voice any protest.  She swore she'd find a way to free him.  Now, in the shadow of a world on the brink of holy war, she keeps her promise, and who knows what could happen next...





	1. The Rescue

Kaidan Alenko was twenty-two years old when he started awake to the rattling of the iron window frame nearest his bed, one of several in the mage barracks of Kinloch Hold. Though less than thirty feet above the ground, it was rare for anything more than the breeze to trouble it; once, shortly after he first moved to this room, a bird flew into the panes and he hadn’t been able to sleep for a week.

But now something scrabbled at it. He reached for his staff, trying not to make a sound. The cords supporting his straw-stuffed mattress creaked as he sat up. Wishing for a fleeting moment he had his full robes on, instead of only the linen chemise, feeling defenseless without the layers of wool. But that was ridiculous. Not a stitch of it was enchanted. The only item he owned that had such expensive work was the wooden staff. He carved it himself and affixed the lyrium-inscribed crystal, issued with great solemnity from the senior enchanter’s stores a few years after his Harrowing. All mages were entitled to a staff, if only because they couldn’t do the Circle’s work without one.

Kaidan held it now, pointed at the window, unable to see more than a flicker of a dark form in the night beyond its glass. Waiting.

The lock snicked. The window swung inward. He gripped the wood tightly, a spell rising on his lips**—**

A face appeared. Brown and weathered, blue eyes bright even in the faint torchlight from the hall, lockpicks in its mouth and a flag of red hair tied up in a scarf. 

“Mmmph!” it said, eyes widening at the sight of the staff.

Kaidan half-strangled himself pulling back the magic. Still holding the staff out in shock. More than a dozen years, and somehow he still knew her instantly. It shouldn’t be possible. They’d been children.

She saw his flicker of recognition, and relaxed into a smile, levering herself into the room and spitting out her tools so she could talk. “Excellent, this is the right room. For what I paid the information should’ve been good, but you never know with templar types**—**”

“Nathaly?” A hoarse whisper. Not believing what he saw, and not wanting any of the other mages sleeping nearby to notice regardless of whether this was real. Much less the templar guard half-dozing beyond the doorway. 

She padded into the room, enough to peer out beyond the walls of his cubby, checking to see if anyone else had noticed her arrival. Her clothes had changed. No more the coarse homespun of a herder’s daughter; she wore well-fitted leather armor over dyed shirt and leggings, the brightness of their colors telling the expense, and carried a sword and bow with all evidence of frequent use. He stared at her back, disconcerted.

Nathaly returned, her voice low. “Nobody’s heard us. Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

He finally managed to lower his staff. Stammering to his feet. “I**—** what**—** you**—**”

She flashed him a broad smile, smug and almost giddy. His stomach fluttered. “I promised I’d come and get you out. Just took a little longer than I planned, is all.”

They’d been eight and and nine, respectively. Fetching water in the village. She’d attacked the templars who grabbed him, bashing her fists bloody against their armor because futility only encouraged her. Jumping up one’s back after they brushed her aside and hanging onto his hair like a burr. It took both of the others to remove her, and the baker and his wife to restrain her so they could leave. He remembered it well because it was the last nice thing anyone had done for him. His own parents hadn’t fought; in a village that size, the Chantry’s orders might as well be the word of the Maker Himself.

And she had screamed reassurances, as the templars loaded him onto a horse and carried him off. _Just sit tight, I’m coming. _

He never believed it. And yet here she was.

Nathaly touched his shoulder, gave him a shake. “Kaidan, we have to go. It’s not safe here.”

Not safe here. A hysterical laugh bubbled up his throat. He clamped a hand over his mouth. She couldn’t know the half of it. “It’s not safe out there, either. They steal children, but they kill apostates.”

Her brow furrowed. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Some apostate in Kirkwall blew up their Chantry. Not the little ones down in the districts**—** the big one, gilded up by the high mucks.” She took a breath. “It’s all going to come apart, sooner rather than later. I’m not leaving you here to twist in the wind.”

Kaidan’s knees failed him and he sat back on the bed, heavily enough to make her wince at the noise. Her hand straying to a dagger on her belt as she glanced again at the other cubbies. If that was true… if the Chantry decided mages were an active threat rather than a mere danger… But apostates would find no refuge anywhere. There wouldn’t be an option to come back and face whatever punishment awaited. Sleeping in various chambers on this floor and one above it were the only people he’d known for most of his life, and if he did this, he’d never see any of them again.

The indecision must have shown on his face, because Nathaly crouched in front of him, and took both his hands in hers. Her face nearly level squatting on the floor, she’d gotten so tall. “Kaidan, I will protect you. I’ll take you out of Ferelden, or to Tevinter, or across the Amaranthine Ocean if I have to. If this tower is what you want, I’ll go, but if you want more than this… Do you trust me?”

He stared into her eyes. On the Circle’s best days, he’d never wanted this. And in the face of all sanity, he believed her, every word, because even at eight years old Nathaly was still the strongest person he’d ever known, strong enough to keep an impossible vow across more than a decade. “I trust you.”

“Then let’s go. We don’t have much time. I have a boat waiting, but we have to be across before the moon rises.”

“Right.” He pulled his robe off its hook and over his head, and then found his cloak in the trunk. He’d rarely needed it and it remained like new, deep blue wool lacking all insignia, a small blessing. Belting on a pouch with his meager stash of coin and throwing a handful of useful or sentimental items into a knapsack, and then at last grabbed his staff, because he was damned if he was leaving his only real defense behind. “My phylactery**—**”

“A friend’s taking care of it. Owes me a favor. We’ll give the signal when we’re clear.”

He wanted to ask how, but realized it didn’t matter. His mind was made up. “I don’t know how I’m getting down.”

“I’ve got a rope.” Again that smile. “All you have to do is hang on. Then I’ll untie it up here and climb down to you.”

The next bell had just started to ring when she dropped lightly onto the grass beside him, and took his arm. “Come on. It’s this way.”

They stole across the open field surrounding the Circle Tower. Kaidan’s shoulders itched, as if he could feel a hundred templar eyes fixed on him through the stone walls. So distracted he found the boat with his shins and had to stop himself from cursing aloud. 

It sloshed gently in the water. A tall, spare man reached out to help him in. “Easy there. So, you’re Kaidan, huh?”

“Yes?” The man talked as if he recognized him, but Kaidan never saw him before in his life.

“We can do introductions later,” Nathaly interrupted, grasping the rowboat by its prow and pushing off from the shore. “Garrus.”

“I’ve got it.” He stood up straight and cupped his hands around his mouth. A sound emerged, a birdcall, nothing native to this area. So loud that Kaidan cringed down into the boat.

Her hand rubbed his back. And he was almost more surprised by that small act of thoughtless comfort than the noise. “It’s just the signal. Telling our friends we’re ready.”

“Do we wait for them, or…?” 

She shook her head and swung herself into the boat, boots soaked. “They’re getting out another way. Our part here’s done. We’ll meet them at the rendezvous in Crestwood in three days.” Then, catching his expression, “Don’t worry. We’re not going into the village proper. Or at least, you’re not and they’re not. Garrus and I will go for supplies and hear the news. That’ll decide what we do next.”

They settled in the boat, Garrus drawing a paddle out from beneath the seats and cutting into the surface with barely a ripple. Tonight, Lake Calenhad was smooth as glass, and quiet as a graveyard. Kaidan glanced at the stars. “We’re not headed towards the mainland docks.”

Nathaly nodded. “We’ll take the coast on foot and range north until we reach the Imperial Highway. From there, we’ll be another group of travelers. We’ve got clothes stashed for you on the shore. I had to guess the sizing, but they’ll do for now.”

“Quiet,” Garrus said. For the first time, Kaidan noticed the massive compound bow under his cloak, and the way his drab brown-gray clothes melded into the dark. “Night like this, voices carry.”

Good sense prevailed, and they made the rest of the journey in silence. At some point, Nathaly reached over and took his hand. He clung to her fingers and watched the tower and his life of thirteen years grow small on the horizon until the night swallowed them both.


	2. The Phylactery

Nathaly, Kaidan, and Garrus arrived in Crestwood only a half-day behind schedule. Kaidan barely slept those nights on the road, a death grip on the staff concealed beneath his cloak and convinced that the templars would arrive at any moment. Once they left the highway, that fear eased, if only slightly, replaced by howls in the night and the sparks of campfires in the wilds. The area surrounding Crestwood was formed of craggy hills, plenty of areas for bandits and worse to hide. 

They gave them a wide berth where they could. Once, a group of four approached them, ill intentions obvious, but Nathaly put her hand to her sword and spoke quietly, words he couldn’t catch. They backed off. Then she took a step towards them, half-drawing her weapon, and they turned and ran. Garrus laughed and said something about her reputation preceding her. Kaidan didn’t know what to make of that, and wasn’t convinced he liked it.

Now he sat in the mouth of a cave, looking out over the stark and barren land as the sun fell below the mountains beyond. Drinking it up with his eyes and trying not to feel swallowed whole. For thirteen years, the curved walls of Kinloch Hold formed his horizon, close enough to touch, barring the occasional glance at the same tired views out the narrow windows, or the even rarer trip beyond Lake Calenhad. The last of those was more than three years ago, a trip to Highever to fix… something. Couldn’t remember what. Though far from the Circle’s favorite mage, his power and grasp of magic were undeniable, and they were happy to use him for heavy-lifting. It rankled, having his only utility in life dictated by the same people who took him from his family and his home.

But without them, he had no idea whatsoever of his purpose. It wasn’t like he could use any of those skills anymore. Not without risking exposure. He worried, increasingly, about becoming a burden on the small group that now comprised his only friends.

Garrus had headed into town. Their other two friends, the ones supposed to retrieve his phylactery, were days late, and he hoped to hear something. Maybe meet someone who’d seen them traveling. Kaidan wouldn’t know it, looking at Nathaly now, scrunched into a ball with her cloak as a pillow, fast asleep without a worry in the world. He tried to remember if she slept like that as a child. Their families were close; hers helped with the harvest at his parents’ orchard, his made themselves available for shearing season, and the kids got roped into customary tasks like watching the herds. They spent days and nights out in the meadows. She had a great big sheepdog she never liked much, but who loved Kaidan.

Even then, she never talked about growing up to be a shepherd. The oldest child of a not particularly large family, it was expected, but she wasn’t the type to care. She talked his ear off about all the places she wanted to visit, the life she wanted to lead, devouring every scrap of every story that ever crossed their tiny village square. And it seemed she found a way.

The sight of two figures picking their way up the hillside woke him from his musing. His heart clenched as he reached for a staff that wasn’t there, left deeper in the cave where it was less conspicuous. The smaller person walked shrouded head to toe in a cloak, but the other glinted with bright steel armor, a templar emblem proud upon the chest.

“Nathaly,” he hissed, afraid to raise his voice above a whisper. He scurried back into the cave and found his staff. Considered casting an illusion over the entrance, but decided it would draw too much attention, the sudden change in scenery. Instead, he shook her shoulder. “Wake up.”

She peered at him, groggy. “Whaisit.”

“There’s a templar. Coming up the hill.” Trying to project a calm he didn’t feel. 

“Shit.” She found her longsword and stumbled towards daylight.

He came up behind her. She stood tall, shielding her eyes from the sun. Then she relaxed. “Hey!”

She waved. Kaidan’s stomach contracted in horror. He hauled at her arm. “What are you doing?”

“It’s ok. I know them.” Smiling even as she tried to reassure him. 

“That’s a templar!”

“She’s not, actually. Well, not anymore. Long story.” Her smile widened. “If she likes you and you ask very nicely, she might even tell it.”

His trepidation didn’t ease as they approached the cave. Two women, the one under the cloak an elf. A Dalish elf, he noted with surprise, as she lowered her hood and revealed the tattoos tangling across her face, vivid on her dark skin. Her black hair was braided down her scalp in thick ridges, but her eyes were startling blue, wideset and huge in her face. She embraced Nathaly. “It’s good to see you. We were delayed at the tower.”

Nathaly drew back, all concern. “Delayed?”

“Don’t be so inscrutable, Liara,” said the ex-templar, who was already stripping off her armor, with just the barest trace of an Orlesian accent. “Ugh, I hate this stuff. Weighs a ton and bakes like an oven.”

Broad-shouldered and tan, she had long brown hair coiled in a knot, and brown eyes that sparkled with good humor despite her groaning. Nathaly gestured towards her. “Kaidan, this is Ash. Ash, Kaidan.”

She sized him up. “So this is him. He’s cuter than I imagined.”

Heat crept into his face. He glanced at Nathaly, who looked just as embarrassed. “Why do people keep talking like they know all about me?”

Ash burst out laughing. “Really? She never shuts her mouth about you. This mage kid from back home she swore on her grandmother’s grave to pry from the Chantry’s wicked grasp.”

His cheeks burned. Even Liara hid a chuckle. “I don’t know what to say.”

Ash folded her arms. “Thank you might be appropriate.” 

He hadn’t processed enough of this to be grateful yet. Nathaly put a bite in her voice, tiring of the teasing. “Leave him alone. He’s had a rough week.”

Instead, he cleared his throat. “So, how did you…?”

“Oh, right.” Ash reached into a pouch and withdrew a small vial of magicked blood. His blood, to be precise. “You probably want this.”

He took it carefully. Not because he was afraid of dropping it— in fact, he intended to destroy it at the earliest opportunity— but because he couldn’t believe he was actually holding it in his hands. Liara read the shock on his face, and explained. “I began as an apprentice in the Circle at Dairsmuid. My clan’s Keeper died before she could pass on her knowledge, and the mages in Rivain have an excellent relationship with my people. For convenience, I split my education between my clan and the enchanters there.”

“Wait,” Kaidan said, completely lost. “They just… let you come and go as you pleased?” 

She twisted her fingers together. “The Rivaini Circle appears unlike any other. I did not know this. Otherwise, things may have turned out differently.”

Ash took up the thread. “As a senior enchanter, the White Spire requested her consultation on a matter of magical theory. And she didn’t know enough to say no.”

“I immediately found myself in trouble, when I thought I might see the sights in Val Royeaux, and attempted to leave.” She shuddered. “The Templars seized me. Began to yell, and I barely spoke Orlesian then. I spent several days in the Spire dungeons. Then weeks, when I tried to sneak out a second time, to return home. Upon realizing my phylactery had been ‘lost’— we don’t use them in Rivain— they made another.”

Ash resumed loosening her templar armor. “Liara was forced to remain at the Spire for several years before she found an opportunity to escape.”

“I acted contrite. Obedient. Eventually, my earlier transgressions were forgotten, and I was given important responsibilities. Including access to the phylactery chamber.” And then she smiled, quietly, both self-satisfied and genuinely pleased. “Which is how I knew the procedures to liberate yours.”

Nathaly folded her arms. “They walked in and took it. Pretending to be a traveling templar and her mage charge, resting up a few days at Kinloch Hold. I take it that it seemed too suspicious to vanish after Kaidan and his phylactery walked out the door?”

“Exactly,” said Ash. “Instead, Liara helped them search the phylactery chamber, since she’s such an expert on them, and I sat in while the templars debated how to conduct a traditional search. I don’t think any of their strategies are likely to work. Then, after a suitable wait, regretfully we had to continue our journey. The phylactery was on my person the whole time.”

Kaidan wrapped his fist around the vial. Angry and thankful and sad, all at once. He could still feel the prick in the crook of his elbow, where they pierced his skin with a knife and trickled the blood into this glass tube, knew if looked he’d still see the small scar. 

Liara touched his hand. Looked up at him, earnest. “I felt the same when I finally held mine, and the Spire had me far fewer years. Everything will be better now. You’ll see.”

Then she followed Ash back into the cave, in search of their provisions. He looked at Nathaly. “Why?”

She uncrossed her arms and shuffled away, busying herself with folding and retying her scarf, the long ends of it trailing down her back. Most of her hair had flown free as she slept. As far as he could tell, she mainly wore it to keep strands from falling in her eyes. “Why what?”

“Yes, you made a promise.” He bit his lip, turning the phylactery over in his palm. “We were just children.”

“I don’t see how that makes it any less important.”

“You risked yourself and your friends to free me.” He eyed her. “I am grateful. I think. But Nathaly, you gotta admit, that’s kind of a lot to put on somebody.”

She glanced away and let out a breath. Then looked back at him directly, backlit by the fading light. “You were my closest friend. I never met anyone in thirteen years I liked better. You meet someone like that, you hang on.”

He should set a boundary, after that sort of statement. Establish some kind of distance. Instead, he said, “I never forgot you, you know. I didn’t think you’d actually come. But it meant something that you wanted to.”

Her expression relaxed into relief. Not the emotion he expected to see— she’d been nervous about this reunion, too, and that hadn’t stopped her, either. She finished knotting the scarf. “I don’t have any expectations. You want to leave, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go and be on my way. I didn’t do this for me.” A brief pause. Her turn to bite her lip. “But… I am happy to see you. More than I can say.”

Early in his time at the Tower, he let himself daydream about what he’d do if he ever got out. Until it started to hurt too much. None of those fantasies involved hiding in a cave, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave. Having a true friend again felt… strange. But also good. 

He hefted the phylactery, and raised his eyebrows. “I’m going to get rid of this. Want to watch?”

“Gladly.”

Kaidan grabbed his staff and headed out, into a small cove of pines standing tall near their makeshift quarters, nicely hidden from any watchful eyes. He set the phylactery on a small boulder. It rolled into a niche and settled, a glowing ruby in the last light of the sun. Brooding there.

He contemplated it for a long moment, this tiny object which had ruled his life since he was nine years old. Then without any preamble he raised his staff and crushed it with the end. Blood splashed over the rock, a morbid scarlet bloom running between the shards. Then he leveled the crystal at it, called out three words, and it erupted in white hot flames.

Nathaly watched in silence. When it lit up, she didn’t flinch, as he expected, but instead let out a small satisfied whoosh of breath. Like she, too, saw this as a great righting of the world. 

They stood there side-by-side until the last of the fire faded, and all that was left of Kaidan’s leash was a scorch mark on stone. Even the glass had melted away. Then, deliberately, he turned his back on it. “Think your friends managed to put together some dinner?”

“Are all mages constantly thinking with their stomachs?” she asked, catching his change in tone.

“Maybe?” If nothing else, Kinloch Hold never lacked for food. For too many of his fellow apprentices, that was the first time in their lives they could expect three meals a day, as big a portion as they wanted.

“Well, it’s good we asked Garrus to lay in more supplies.” She jerked her head towards the cave. “Come on. Ash is a better cook than she’ll admit.”


	3. The Price of an Afternoon

Several days later, when Nathaly’s turn to go into town came up, Kaidan met her at the bottom of the hill and declared his intention to tag along.

“No.” Her answer immediate, and expected. “It’s not a good idea. You could have fled in any direction, but sooner or later, templars are going to search north, and this is the first significant settlement they’ll reach.”

“I understand,” he said, with fraying patience. “I didn’t let you boost me from the Circle Tower just to wind up staring at cave walls instead.”

“It’s just for a few weeks. Until we figure out if it’s safe to move.”

“I’m not going to walk into the town square and summon a firestorm. I just want to…” He struggled with the words. “I haven’t seen people in a decade. Not living real lives, instead of something premeditated and scheduled and assigned before they were born. I haven’t smelled an apple that wasn’t cooked since I left my parents’ land for the last time.”

She shook her head, stubborn as he remembered. “Kaidan…”

“I’ll keep my hood up.” The weather was turning chill, and it would raise no suspicion. “I won’t even say a word. I just want to soak up the crowd. Maybe eat a pie, or something.”

Everything on her face said this was a horrible idea, and she was probably right, but her eyes had softened. Even in this short-lived reunion, he’d already learned they told the real story. He really liked that about her. 

“Fine,” she said, at last. “But you’re going to take Ash’s cloak. It’s far less noticeable than that blue thing of yours.”

She said this dressed herself in a forest green shirt and burnt orange breeches. Even her armor was covered in tooled designs, and he caught her working on more embellishment at odd hours, waiting for the next thing to happen. That was a revelation. He never expected her to care much for ornamentation. 

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to notice me next to all that.” He gestured at her, grinning. 

She scoffed, but also seemed rather pleased that he’d noticed. “Get the damn cloak.”

It was about an hour’s walk into Crestwood proper. A large village or a small town, depending on particular preference, it bustled in early autumn, the harvest just starting to come in. Alongside the grain and vegetables in the market were fresh catches from the lake, scales shining silver and green and rainbow-hued, eels, mussels, and even a species of crab. He’d only seen them in drawings. Their home village of Kinallen was strictly land-locked.

Fish was naturally a staple of Kinloch Hold, surrounded as it was by a lake. But he rarely saw it whole like this, still wet, freshly gutted. Never knew it could smell oddly fresh, clean like the crisp water that bore it. 

Nathaly caught him gawking and laughed, but not at him. More like she was enjoying his enjoyment. “Wow, you were going stir-crazy.”

“Only for thirteen years.” And it was amazing how fast that became a joke. He’d held himself so tightly for so long that any margin to relax had him spilling all over the place.

She grinned back. For a moment, he thought she might grab his hand again, like she had on the boat, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted it. But she walked on. And then he wasn’t sure he wasn’t disappointed. Kaidan had worked with lightening as part of the standard curriculum. Standing in her presence felt like summoning a shock, the mild buzz tingling over his skin as he held it ready in his hand. Exhilarating, but also dangerous.

One thing was sure. He still liked her every bit as much as when they were younger. She still made him laugh and put him at ease with almost effortless aplomb. And Nathaly hadn’t changed a bit, either. More confident, maybe, more sure of herself, and definitely ready and able to use that sword. But still careless and wild. Like nothing could stop her doing as she willed. Her father used to call her “our little whirlwind”, because like the dust devils that occasionally raced across their plains, Nathaly rarely gave consideration to anything in her path, tumbling forward for the sheer joy of it.

And sure enough, they’d barely arrived before she was distracted by a different booth, one displaying bolts of cloth and buttons and embroidery floss. He couldn’t imagine her with a needle in hand, but she bought several skeins. As she tucked them into her pack, she caught his skeptical stare, and snorted. “I taught myself leatherworking. How much harder could this be?”

He rose to the bait. “What kind of pattern are you thinking?”

“Maybe a little border going around a cuff. A band of words.” Delighted by her own idea. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, in a big circle.”

He laughed, hard enough that the hood started to slide back. She caught its edge just in time. “Careful, there.”

“Yeah.” It cast pall over the afternoon, reminding him that he wasn’t truly free, not yet. Not until the templars had given up hope of finding him and he could walk in the open air without tempting fate. But this was better than nothing.

She seemed just as eager to not ruin the day. “Help me figure out what we want to eat. This needs to last at least four or five days. Garrus wants to scout west, see if there’s something more permanent for us to move into.”

“Sounds good.” They wandered back towards the food stalls.

In the midst of picking through a fruit stand, trying to resist the raspberries in favor of something that wouldn’t spoil almost overnight nor get crushed in a knapsack, he felt Nathaly go stiff beside him. He glanced up. And then immediately back down to the fruit, trying subtly to pull the hood lower over his face. A gaggle of Chantry mothers had arrived at the far end of the market.

She bent towards him, urgently. “We need to finish up and leave.”

“Agreed,” he whispered back.

Then, as he started to move away, snagged his cloak. “Slowly. Don’t attract attention.”

A thousand years passed as he waited for her to finish selecting fruit. Another century or three as she paid the man running the stall. The Chantry mothers roving ever closer, their gossip growing louder. Kaidan tried not to stare. But it was next to impossible when it felt like the thread of his life was hanging taut, just waiting for one of them to trip and snap it.

Nathaly piled the remainder of their purchases into his knapsack. “Walk,” she whispered, as she put her arm around him and steered them towards the western road out of Crestwood. Then, when he involuntarily tried to look over his shoulder, “Eyes front. We’re almost in the clear.”

They walked through the stone arch and out of line-of-sight. Kaidan drew a huge breath. Nathaly dropped her arm and rubbed her eyes. “Well, that was something.”

“Yeah, I—” His eyes went wide. His throat closed up.

“This was the worst idea,” Nathaly went on, oblivious. “We’re never doing this again.”

He tried to wet his mouth. His voice a weak croak. “Nathaly—”

“And don’t you even start with the ‘I was trapped in a tower for thirteen years’ crap while I’m trying to keep you alive for the next thirteen—”

“Nathaly.” He spun her bodily.

Three templars had paused on the road east of them. Staring the pair of them down, heads cocked to the side, still confused, focused on him. Kaidan estimated that would last another moment or two and then they were both dead.

“Shit,” said Nathaly, eloquent as always. “Maybe they haven’t noticed.”

The templar in the lead put his hand to his hilt and started forward.

Kaidan took a step back. Wondering why in the hell he let her talk him into leaving his staff in the cave, giveaway or not. “I think that ship’s sailed.”

“Double shit.” And then she actually walked towards them. The blood drained from his face.

She stopped a few paces from the templar group, forcing them to stop also. “Can I help you?”

One of the templars in the back sniggered. The leader shot him a tempering glare. “Are you aware that you are traveling in the company of an apostate?”

Nathaly rested her hands on her hips. Not retreating an inch. Kaidan’s guts tried to turn themselves inside out. “Dunno. Are you aware that you’re about to make a terrible decision?” 

Outright laughter, unchecked by the templar in charge, who couldn’t suppress a smile himself. “My dear woman, this… mage is our charge to return to the Circle from which he has fled, as Andraste bid us. If you insist on standing in our way, we will be forced to remove you.”

“You can damn well try.” She drew her sword, steel ringing in the autumn afternoon. Her eyes shifting to each of them in turn. “But if you do, I’ll kill you all. There won’t be a final moment’s mercy, letting one of you run off and regroup. One mage means nothing to you. You’ve got hundreds. Is this mage worth your three beating hearts?”


	4. Skirmishing

The air went still, stretching thin in the wake of Nathaly’s threat, as they sized each other up, and stared each other down. Kaidan’s blood was ice. Surely this was some sort of feint. Surely she didn’t intend to take on three templars by herself.

Nathaly’s eyes never strayed from their leader. She twirled her sword once, idly. Like she could wait forever. He took a step towards Kaidan, as if to go around her, and just as quickly she stepped to the side, so she was again between them.

The templar grimaced, and began to draw his own sword. Nathaly blurred.

Before he had it halfway loose, her foot lashed out and caught him in the chest with all her weight and strength behind it. He overbalanced, legs tangling in his mail skirt, and toppled into the shallow ditch beside the road. Nathaly pulled her dagger and caught the next templar’s sword on her long blade, jabbing underneath at the soft triangle of his belly where the plates covering his hips diverged. The man cursed and skittered back, her dagger tipped red, but the wound seemed superficial at best.

The third swung at her side; she pivoted away from the blow, closer to him, and slammed her dagger into his neck. This time, she found her target. It slipped through the tenuous gap between helm and breastplate, and out the other side. The man’s eyes bulged. Kaidan stumbled back, revulsion and shock curdling in his stomach, as she yanked the blade free and arterial blood poured down the templar’s chest. He collapsed into the dust, clawing at the wound as it spurted between his fingers.

One templar dispatched. She spun and barely managed to parry his partner’s sword.

The first templar, the leader, was just now struggling to his feet under the weight of all his armor. Nathaly was being forced back under the strength of her opponent’s blows, his face a portrait of rage. A lone thread of rational thought pierced through Kaidan’s freeze: she could not handle another templar just now.

He ran for the ditch. Slammed the heel of his boot into his face, knocking him back again, only just managing to override the lance of abject terror from assaulting a templar. That was all but a death sentence under the Circle’s laws. Instead, he used the man’s momentary daze to crouch down in the water beside him. No more than a trickle, but enough for what he wanted to do.

All magic altered reality. Templar training, as Kaidan understood it, was a mess of ritual and religious doggerel wrapped around the fundamental goal of hardening reality, to lower susceptibility to magic’s effects. But there were ways around that. If he set him on fire while lying in water it would never work; his mind and body would not believe it. But choose something a little more likely…

The stream meandered past his face. Nowhere near deep enough to pose a threat. But Kaidan touched his forehead, and pulled on the strands of perception forming the templar’s reality, sight and sound and touch and taste, temperature and pressure. And made the water rise.

The templar thrashed, trying to lift himself clear. Kaidan physically pushed him deeper into the ditch, straining against his strength, and sent another, stronger sensation of water flushing down from the lake and covering his body. Reinforced it by splashing actual water against his face. In perfectly breathable air, the templar began to drown.

A cheap trick. Magically inexpensive, about all he could manage without his staff to serve as a focus. But effective, when it worked. He spared half a glance for Nathaly.

She’d bloodied her opponent a second time. His left arm hung useless, half the armor fallen off and the leather straps hanging cut and orphaned. Her dagger gleamed red, visceral near the hilt where the worst had piled up. Sweat soaked her scarf. Not just for keeping hair out of her eyes, then.

Kaidan watched her give another step of ground. Pleading silently. It was unlikely he could kill the templar this way, with an illusion, the man’s sword was trapped beneath his bulk, and Kaidan had no weapons of his own to dispatch him while he was bespelled. And after using magic against him, one of them had to die. No templar would allow that to stand.

Nathaly retreated another step. Even one-handed, her templar was savage, bearing down with such force Kaidan half-expected her sword to snap. But she didn’t seem concerned. She parried or evaded each attack, sliding her own blade free, deflecting rather than absorbing his strikes. 

_Waiting_, Kaidan realized, at the same moment that her templar passed some internal anger threshold, gripped his sword in a fist, and raised it over his head for a killing blow. 

Thereby exposing… more or less everything, really.

Like all but the highest-ranking templars, most of the man’s body was protected by munition plate, armoring his entire top half, while the bottom consisted of layers of thick fabric and mail. Cheaper, and less effective, but worn as a skirt such that weapons had no immediate contact with the body even if by chance they did penetrate. 

That seemed wholly inconsequential to Nathaly. She swung her sword into his thigh, cutting through like slicing bread. He screamed— Kaidan had never heard a grown man scream like that— and Nathaly pulled it free. He stumbled, not able to put even the slightest weight on his leg. The natural motion of her attack carried her behind him, well out of the reach of his extravagant over-head strike.

She aligned her sword straight ahead, guiding it at the middle with her off-hand, the dagger trapped between her palm and the metal. Then she lunged.

Kaidan didn’t see it go in. But he saw the templar’s tassets flap as the tip angled upward and pushed them away from his hip. An absolute flood of blood and gore puddled and spread at his boots. The templar choked mid-howl, mouth gaping, eyes wide, as if this was so far beyond pain it could not rationally be expressed. 

He pitched forward, dragging Nathaly’s sword with him. She braced her boot against his pelvis to jerk it free— another drawn-out moan from the fallen man— and then she looked towards Kaidan. Her expression turned to horror.

His eyebrows bunched, confused. Wasn’t it over?

Then a hand seized his arm, painfully tight, dragging him down. In his momentary inattention, the templar leader broke free of his spell.

“Spellbind!” he roared. Fumbling for his sword, half-sitting up in the ditch and disoriented. Kaidan tried to jerk away, but he was vastly outmatched. The Circle didn’t allow mages much in the way of exercise.

He flailed at his face with his free hand, aimed for nose, eyes, front teeth— anything he could disrupt that might cause him to loosen his grip. Aware he had only moments, and that without his staff and under such provocation, magic might as well be imaginary for all he could reach it. Succeeded only in knocking off his helm.

Then Nathaly was there. “Move!”

He didn’t question it, but threw himself as far away as he could.

Her sword plunged down, into the templars face and the ground beyond. His hand around Kaidan’s arm slackened. His eyes went still; Kaidan could see the moment he died, in their abrupt vacancy. 

Nathaly straightened with a few heavy breaths. In the aftermath, everything seemed quiet. 

Then she offered him her hand, and hauled him up. “Come on. With the way that one was carrying on, half the town will have heard. Once they realize it’s over, they’ll be along shortly, and we can’t be here.”

She cast a disparaging glance to the one she’d run through, curled over on the road, dead now as well. Kaidan couldn’t do more than stand. He could barely do that. 

Once he was on his feet, she wiped her sword on the leader’s skirt, sheathed it on her back, and returned to the other two. Systemically, she began to strip them of their purses, cutting their belts with her dagger and stuffing the goods into her knapsack.

“What are you doing?” Kaidan asked. Too shocked to even realize what he was asking, operating purely on some ingrained social instinct. Unable to stop looking at the three dead men, so much of them strewn on the dirt that ought to be inside their skin.

“We can’t stay in this area.” She flipped one over and began severing his pack as well. “We’ll need what they have to travel far.” Then, seeing his reproach, she shrugged. “They’re not using it anymore. You want the Chantry to have it? Or the villagers?”

What he wanted more than anything, in that moment, was to survive. So he bent and relieved the templar leader of his worldly goods, trying hard not to look too closely at the gruesome pit that was once his face.

Then she grabbed him by the waist and hustled him down the road, at something close to a run, the fastest they could move without making any further noise, until they could leave the path for the hills. She was angling for the valleys, he saw— areas they avoided on the way in, because they were popular with bandits. But better that than a mob. At least with all the coin they had now, they might be able to buy them off.

“How the shit did you learn to do all that?” he asked, after they were well away from town, continuing to jog deeper into the valley.

“Did you really think I planned all this without learning to take apart a templar?” She flashed him a smile. Her cheek was flecked with blood. He looked away.

She was enjoying this, somehow. Continuing as if they were having a casual chat and not fleeing for their lives, leaving the corpses of three men who died badly behind them. “Joined the army when I was fourteen. Tall and strong was all they cared about. Stayed a few years, got some basic arms and training, and then I met Garrus.”

She chuckled at that, shaking her head at whatever memory came with it.

“Garrus doesn’t look rank and file.” Actually, Garrus looked about as far from military as Kaidan had seen.

Another laugh. How was she laughing? “He’s a Vint, if you can believe that.”

That startled him out of his brooding. “He doesn’t have the accent.”

“It’s there if you know to listen for it, but he’s spent most of his life south of the Imperium. Mercenary work,” she explained. “Army regulars hired a detachment from his company, led by him, for a skirmish along the Orlesian border. Standard stuff. When their contract finished, I went with them.”

His stomach soured. She was a mercenary. And she was laughing, not even an hour past disemboweling a man from behind. Stabbing another through the face. He took a deep breath, trying to will away the images, concentrate on moving through the brush.

“Learned a lot more there,” she continued, unaware of his mood. “Real swordplay, not just swinging sticks. Archery, knifework. A handful of sneak stuff like the lockpicking, but let’s face it, I’m too big and loud to ever be much good at it.”

This said almost as a joke, because tall as she was, Garrus had her beat by a solid foot, and Kaidan had yet to hear him make so much as a whisper when he moved. And because back there, in the fight, she’d moved like the wind herself, never there when a blow fell, using her body and her footwork as much as her blades. 

All it took was that one slip, and he was back in front of the Crestwood gate, squatting in a ditch as a man’s insides fell out onto the road. The awful stench of it filled his nose. Kaidan’s stomach heaved. He put his hand to it, trying hard to think of anything else, but it was too late. He ran for a bush.

“Kaidan?” she asked, as he darted off. 

He put his face in the leaves and emptied his stomach, barely cognizant of the need to hide it, that even now, whatever passed for the town’s militia would be mustering, and word sent to the Chantry as well. It continued to heave until his throat was raw and burning with the thin gray acid coming up.

“Hey.” Her hand fell on his back, gentle, intending comfort. 

Kaidan flinched hard, dislodging it. Nathaly froze. It was the first time since they’d met that she simply did not know what to do. She bit her lip. “It’s fine, you know. Everyone throws up their first time.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he snapped, though he was, and he was damned if he could say why. “You… we… took those men apart. And you’re happy.”

A flicker of irritation. She crossed her arms. “I’m happy we lived. I’m happy none of them will be able to report in, and that whatever magic you used to keep the last one down, it didn’t leave any marks to say a mage was even there. Yes, I feel good about it.”

“You enjoyed it.” An accusation. More than he intended.

“You’re a fool if you think killing people who need to die is anything more than satisfying.” Real anger, now. “But, yes. Unbelievably, I take a certain pleasure in using skills that took me years of scars and bruises to learn. Do you hate yourself for ensorcelling that man?”

Kaidan looked away, rubbing his neck. “A little.”

Her expression softened. “That’s…. very noble.”

He peered at her, but didn’t detect any trace of sarcasm. She saw the doubt, and elaborated. “Feeling even a little bad about hurting someone who would’ve killed you without a second thought.”

“It was a kind of illusion,” he said. “I convinced him he was drowning in that ditch. Doing real magic, fire, ice, whatever, without a focus is hard.”

“Your staff,” she said, after a blank-faced moment. 

He nodded. Nathaly sighed. “Alright. Rule one, starting now, you don’t go anywhere without it.”

“If we get ahold of the right materials, I could make something smaller.”

“And that’s a priority, once we’re back in civilization.” She started walking again, a bit slower than before, but still with urgency. They were well into the hills now, hidden by rocks and trees, and the ground was so poor here they barely left a trace. But an inexorable feeling of being chased, being hunted, lingered.

Kaidan was just as eager to be gone. “Where are we going?”

She shook her head. “First impulse is head north to the coast, maybe get out of Ferelden altogether. But I want the others to weigh in. We can talk while we travel.”

A flicker of surprise ran through him. “We’re not waiting to sort it out?”

She glanced up at the setting sun. “No. We leave as soon as it’s dark.”


	5. The High Seas

Nathaly folded her arms over the rail and closed her eyes, filling her nostrils with the fresh sea breeze. Maker, but she’d missed this. Ferelden would always be home, but she’d said her goodbyes, and had no longing left for an extended stay. For some people home was more of a necessary idea than a real place.

Or maybe her concept of home had shifted over the years, from a place to people. Garrus and Ash and Liara— all closer than her blood kin. The rest of the company, currently on march through Nevarra, a kind of extended family. Crotchety old-timers in place of nagging aunts, and dozens of cousins more her age.

“Nice, isn’t it?” 

She opened her eyes, smiling as she saw Ash standing beside her, arms crossed. Armor packed away for the meantime. Her strength was evident even in a plain linen tunic and breeches, brawny arms and a broad back, glossy brown hair tied a practical knot, but she also looked easier, less intimidating than when armored. Relaxed. 

Nathaly turned back to the water. “Very nice.”

Ash lingered on the gray swells of the Waking Sea. “The way you take to the water, you’d think you were a fish, not a shepherd.”

Her laugh carried. A few of the nearest sailors paused in their duties, startled by the sound, though Nathaly took no notice. “My mother had to drag me out of the swimming hole by my ear in the summers. Kaidan and I practically lived there from the time we could walk.”

The sidelong glance she got in return had more than a little subtext, and a hint of trepidation. “How is that going?”

“Pardon?” She wiped a loose lock of hair off her face, whipped free by the wind.

She jerked her chin aft, where Kaidan sat chatting with Liara. “With him.”

Nathaly snorted. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘with him’.”

“You built up this moment for ten years. That’s a lot of anticipation.” She cleared her throat. “And I can’t help but notice he was pretty quiet on the way up to the coast.”

Nathaly folded her hands. Looking off to the horizon. “You remember your first kill?”

“Trust you to be that crass.” Ash made a sound of mild offense, joining her at the rail. “It wasn’t pretty. Not one you want to hear about, or I want to tell.”

“But you remember it, is my point. You always will.” She shrugged, hunching down. “My first was older than me. Everyone was older than me, then. I threw up hours later, when that battle was over.”

“Everyone does,” Ash said.

“Everyone,” she agreed. Thinking about Kaidan, briefly, his head in those bushes. “But the moment, that moment, when he fell and it was my pike sticking in him, was the worst moment of my life. All around me people were still fighting. Attacking, dying. Screaming. And I told myself that if I didn’t pick up that pike and keep going, if I died here because I couldn’t, then Kaidan would stay in that tower forever. It’s a kind of slavery, you know.”

Ash snorted, but refrained from comment. They’d had this argument before. And Nathaly continued, unperturbed, for the same reason. “And I picked it up. I turned into this.”

“You turned into a person who could waltz into a Circle of Magi and set one free with hardly any notice at all.” Ash turned to her. “I cannot emphasize how baffled they were. They questioned that poor guard for hours, wondering how Kaidan snuck by. They looked at the window and determined there was no way up or down.”

Her turn to tch. “I’m supposed to be proud that they’re idiots?”

“They’re not. Keeping mages is what they do.” Her stare turned harder, and more curious. “What’s this about?”

She straightened, flexed her fingers around the railing. Looked down at the deck. Wondering whether to speak, and finally just blurted it out. “I turned into someone he doesn’t like.”

That just annoyed her. “He doesn’t get to judge. He took your help readily enough.”

Nathaly tendered her an exasperated look. “Ash. Come on.”

“This is your problem, and you’re turning it into his.” She turned around and folded her arms, looking at her pointedly. “I’ve known you… four years now? Five?”

“Something like that.” She turned back to the water, grumpy.

“You’ve never been with anybody.”

“That’s not even a little true.”

“Sure it is.” Then, over her protests, “You spend a night. Two, if you’re in one place long enough. You never leave your name. You never leave anything. I think you may be the only one in the entire company that’s never had any kind of shield-mate thing—”

“I don’t want to shit where I eat, so there’s something wrong with me?”

“You don’t shit anywhere, is my point.” Ash pressed onward as Nathaly rolled her eyes. “You keep that particular shelf in your heart scrupulously empty. Because whether or not you want to admit it, you’ve been harboring this bizarre fantasy about a person you last saw when you were eight years old, and how it was going to be when you finally met him again.”

“It’s not like that.” And she meant it. Ash’s accusation was absurd. “I didn’t have any expectations beyond getting Kaidan out of that abyssal shithole.”

She raised her eyebrows. “But you hoped.”

Nathaly had hoped. But not the way Ash meant. “He was my closest friend, going back to before I have memories. Our mothers used to quiet us as infants by sticking us in the same cradle.”

“So you’ve said, many times.”

“I just wanted that back.” And a little bit of the forlorn way she’d felt since Kaidan looked at her with such revulsion as they fled Crestwood returned. “But we both changed. Too much, maybe. The Chantry stole it.”

“You’re so bitter.”

“They can all get fucked. From the Divine on down.”

“That’s one way to cure what ails them,” Ash said, mildly.

Nathaly held her cross look a moment longer, and then broke, chuckling despite herself. “I don’t know, Ash.”

“Talk to him.” She uncrossed her arms and pushed away from the rail. “You won’t get anywhere brooding. And you haven’t given him an opportunity to understand. He’s spent most of his life in a place where every hour was spoken for, and they didn’t even have funerals. Anyone who died just disappeared. It was sanitary, but not particularly educational.”

“You’re probably right.” She glanced, again, at where he sat with Liara, their conversation still as animated as before. 

Some of her ambivalence must have shown, because Ash cleared her throat. “You know, I have three sisters in Lydes. Two married. One… well, wild, our mother would say. Abby. She’s like you, you’d enjoy her.”

She quirked eyebrow. “Bitter?”

“Appreciative of swords, and tops you have to tie her into.” Ash grinned at her bark of laughter. “More Orlesian dueling than real work. Still. What I wanted to say is this. Nobody understood, when I took my vows. We’re devout, of course, most families are. But giving up your life to the Chantry? Something else entirely.”

Nathaly tilted her head. “How’d you make them understand?”

“The first time I got a chance to visit, I’d been gone over two years. And it was strange at first. Awkward beyond belief. And then something changed.” 

“What?”

Her smile broadened. She touched her shoulder. “They remembered I was their sister. I hadn’t changed. You haven’t, either, not in the ways that matter. But it takes time.”

“Yeah.” Then, as Ash began to walk away, “And thanks.”

She gave her a nod, and disappeared back below decks. Probably looking for lunch.

Nathaly took a breath, and steeled herself. Regardless of what Kaidan thought of her, they had a bigger problem. 

He looked up as she sauntered over. She tried not to take his guarded expression personally, but it twisted like a knife every time. “We’ve got another week before we reach Ostwick.”

Liara sat back. The wind hadn’t bothered her hair at all, protected as it was in its thick braids. “What then? Do you still intend to head north?”

“Rivain is our best bet. No other place in the world is friendlier to mages.”

“Excepting Tevinter,” she pointed out.

Nathaly waved that off. “Tevinter cares about rich human mages. Does that describe our bunch?”

“Not yet,” Kaidan said, overly bright. It took Liara’s gentle laughter to make her realize he was telling a joke. 

She blushed, but soldiered on. “It’s going to be a long trip. We can’t count on that mess back in Crestwood being our only fight. And no offense, but…”

“I’m a bit useless at combat?” he suggested, dryly. 

“In a nutshell.” She nodded at Liara. “She can teach you something about real combat magic later, not the kind they teach that assumes you have an army to defend, away from all the prying eyes aboard ship. But she also knows that a staff is a very sturdy, very heavy length of wood that can be quite useful for hitting people. I hoped she might be willing to demonstrate.”

“Of course—” Liara began, but Kaidan interrupted her. 

“I don’t want to learn a quarterstaff,” he said. 

Nathaly blinked. “Then what?”

“The way you used that sword is pretty impressive.”

“You… want to learn sword fighting?” She couldn’t have been more startled if he said he wanted to fly to the moons.

“It’s a little less conspicuous. And I said I wanted to trade down to a focus that’s more discreet.”

Liara gestured towards her. “You couldn’t ask for a better teacher. It seems a shame not to take advantage.”

Kaidan looked at her. “I’m already beholden, but I could stand to go a little deeper into debt.”

Nathaly was certain her face was burning. She had a brown complexion, darkened further by the sun, and hoped it didn’t show. “When do you want to start?”

He glanced at Liara. “How about now?”

The deck was clear enough. She swallowed. “Alright. Let me just… go find a pair of blades.”

He cocked his head. “What’s wrong with yours?”

Liara chuckled. “Are you joking? Hers might hesitate when it hit your bones, but for certain nothing else about you will stop it.” Then, at his confused expression, “It’s enchanted. To help cut through armor.”

“I guess that explains why it cut mail like a hot knife through butter.”

“A necessary expense,” Nathaly said, as though it wasn’t worth more than all the rest of her worldly goods put together and then some. “Templars are armored head to toe. I can’t rely on gaps all the time.”

And then she regretted saying it, as his face clouded, overcast by shadows of their fight with the three templars on the road. Probably recalling the one she stabbed through the neck. That particular opening, where the helm ended, was just so exploitable. Nathaly was frankly shocked the templar order had never corrected it.

But then, templars generally did not see a lot of non-magical action, respected as they were throughout Thedas.

Whatever images floated through his mind, Kaidan only asked, “Why not put the enchantment on your dagger? Seemed like you attacked with that more.”

She blinked. “That’s the smartest question anyone’s ever asked me about it. Maybe you’re a swordsman after all.”

He smiled. “I think you’ve got an answer, though.”

“Three reasons.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “First, the dagger takes a lot more abuse. I’ve broken them clean off before and it’s too expensive to replace. Sometimes I have to leave it behind, because I threw it, or wedged it into something, and so on. And finally, when I do manage a hit with the long blade, it counts for a lot more. A person can walk away from a shallow stab wound.”

Ash joined them. “And don’t get her started about the virtues of armor— or lack thereof. Here.” She handed Nathaly a pair of wooden tie rods, used to hold smaller sails in place, and about the length of a long sword. “I couldn’t help but overhear about this little experiment.”

Nathaly swung one, experimentally. “Sure, this’ll work.”

She handed the other to Kaidan, who turned it over, a bit uncertain now that they were about to begin. Sure enough, he tried to delay. “What about armor? If you can afford an enchanted sword, plate surely can’t be a stretch.”

Her nose wrinkled. “There are only two weapons that worry me.”

“Here we go,” Ash muttered. Liara swatted at her.

“A longbow, and a mace.” Ignoring Ash entirely. “Maces do not care about plate. They are specifically designed to negate its advantages, which leaves only avoidance. And the best way to do that is to maintain full range of movement.”

But Ash could not keep silent. “You get full range in plate.”

“Almost. Not good enough. And the weight slows you down.”

“Properly fitted, you don’t even notice the weight.”

“But you do,” Nathaly insisted. It was an old argument between them. “It adds its weight to yours. Makes it harder to start moving, or stop, or change direction.”

Kaidan interrupted the nascent argument. Not knowing them well enough to understand its good nature. “And the longbow?”

Liara answered. “It’s arrow-catcher armor. Lots of layers. Leather’s tough, and she’s got a tight-woven silk lining under it.”

“Shit,” Ash said. “Everyone who can afford it wears silk underneath.”

He looked Nathaly up and down. “You’ve thought all this through.”

“Your mind is your most important combat asset.” She raised her stick. “Let’s see what we have to work with, here.”

Hefting his own stick, he frowned. “Feels light. Not that I know what a sword weighs.”

“It’s too early to care about that.” She moved several steps, circling around him. “The most important factors in a swordfight are timing and distance. Control those, and you’ll win every time.”

Kaidan turned in place, following her. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Try to hit me.” She grinned. “Show me what bad habits I need to beat out of you.”

“Is that an order?” Smirking slightly.

“A fact,” she said, and lunged towards him. Just to get things started.

Nathaly wasn’t trying, not really. She only wanted him to react. And he did. Scuttling backwards and tripping over his own feet.

She closed easily, smacking his arm with the rod. “See. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yet,” said Ash, who was clearly enjoying this all too much. 

A hint of irritation flickered. “I should thump you, too. A little reminder.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “I’m good.”

“So I can get on with this?” She raised her eyebrows.

Ash crossed her arms, put out at having her fun spoiled, but held her silence. Shepard returned her full attention to Kaidan, who swallowed. She offered a little guidance. “Try again. This time, close with me instead of retreating.”

Kaidan raised the rod half-heartedly. Skittish. She sighed, and threw her stick to Ash, who caught it easily, and then spread her arms wide. “Fine. We’ll try it like this.”

He bit his lip. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

Ash barked a laugh. Her hands clamped over her mouth. Even Liara looked a amused. Primly, she said, “If you manage to so much as tap her, I’ll be very impressed.”

“I’m getting bored,” Nathaly said.

That did the trick. Kaidan swung the rod at her like a baton. She stepped smartly out of the way. “Slow. Try a shorter swish.”

“Feels more powerful this way.”

“Sure, but it’s all wasted because you can see it coming three leagues awa—”

He took two quick steps forward and flicked the rod. She leaned backwards reflexively, feeling it whoosh past, and grinned. “Better.”

“I feel so stupid doing this.”

“It’ll feel that way. And then one day, it won’t. It’ll just be natural.” She nodded at him. “Again.”

Kaidan hefted the rod. “Timing and distance.”

“Yep.”

He came forward, half-skipping in what he surely thought was an attempt to move lightly, flicking the rod back and forth. She retreated, half her concentration on how he was driving her towards the rail ringing the deck. And noticing he wasn’t paying it any mind at all. All of his focus on trying to land any kind of blow.

So he was completely unprepared as she slowed. Nathaly saw the hope brimming in his eyes. Unsure at first, more assured with every small delay in her steps. No idea she was luring him in.

His eyes told her exactly when his confidence reached a tipping point, a small fraction before the firm way he planted his foot confirmed it. She was already spinning out of his path when he committed to the lunge.

And kept stumbling forward when his rod found only empty air. He had so much momentum, in fact, that he carried on several paces and half-pitched over the rail.

She grabbed at his shirt. Underneath it, he was shaking from the close call. “Whoa. Hey.”

Kaidan took a big breath. Then whirled, coming in with an overhand strike. She only just managed to dodge. A burst of laughter escaping her, the maneuver beyond clumsy but so completely unexpected and enthusiastic that she couldn’t help but enjoy it.

And he kept going. Sufficiently embarrassed or motivated by her trick to forget all his earlier hesitation. All but running at her. But she was tired of being chased. It was a good moment to teach him distance went in more than one direction.

So the next time he swung, she waited for it to complete, and stepped close in a blink. Blocking any further movement of his arm. As expected he immediately tried to retreat, but she kept pace, until he stopped in some confusion.

“You’re dead,” she explained. His eyebrows knit together. So she demonstrated. Stretched out one arm to touch the stick. “I would hold your sword here, with my own long blade.”

Then she took her other hand and moved it to his side, just under the ribs. “You’re not armored, and no mage I ever met wanted to be, so I’d slide my dagger here. It would be over before you knew it had happened.”

She raised her head. Found her face only inches from his. He was still a little shorter, he always had been, and his eyes were the same warm brown. Her breath hitched. Just once.

“That sounds like your style,” he said, quietly. “It didn’t occur to me until a few weeks later, but you waited for just the right moment to come to Kinloch Hold.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She swallowed. “I wanted to give it my best shot.”

“And then you closed the distance.”

Her mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Exactly.”

He held her gaze a moment longer. Then he stepped back and lifted the rod. “Let’s try again. I’ll get it this time.”


	6. Gone

The ship sailed by the long black wall, slowing as it came into the harbor and affording its passengers a good long look at the ancient Tevinter carvings. Some of the old gods had eroded softly into the cliffside, their lines melting under a thousand years of pounding waves; others defaced by Chantry zealots. And some stood yet in crisp relief. Kaidan shivered as their cruel eyes passed over the deck.

“Unnerving, isn’t it.” Beside him, Ash folded her arms, gazing upwards. “Liara and I have passed through here before, but we’ve never gone into the city. Makes her sick just being this close to it.”

It wasn’t hard to see what she meant. Something in the air made his skin crawl. “Bad things happened here.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Guess you can sense it, too. That’s what she’d say. And that was before the Chantry blew up.” 

Kaidan pulled his cloak tighter and turned away from the wall. Ash put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’re not getting off here. It’s just a port of call. The ship will unload its cargo, pick up some new goods, and be on its way. Shouldn’t take more than a day or so.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have that option.” Garrus emerged from below decks, Nathaly on his heels. “We left Ferelden too quickly to bank much in the way of supplies, and as of yesterday we have nothing to eat.”

“Breakfast did seem a little non-existent today.” Kaidan shook his head. “But this is Kirkwall. It’s too dangerous. We can hold out—”

“It’s three days to the next port.” Nathaly was pulling on her gloves, checking the fit. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not prepared to face whatever’s waiting for us on that road after a four-day fast.”

His mouth thinned, stubborn. She let out a breath. “Garrus and I will head into the city, buy what we need, and be back in a few bells.”

Ash tilted her head. “Is Kirkwall even keeping bells these days? I mean, the largest chantry’s gone, and the smaller ones would’ve kept time off its bell tower.”

“It’s a figure of speech.” She was exasperated. “We’re taking the money and our weapons, but everything else is in our cabin with Liara.”

She’d been ill since they came in sight of Kirkwall. At the time, Kaidan thought it coincidence, but during their voyage he realized she was much more sensitive to spirits than him. And this city was as restless as anywhere he’d been. 

Which was the crux of why he didn’t want Nathaly anywhere near it. “You don’t understand. Everything’s thinned out here. It’s not just templars and mages, city guard and Maker knows who else vying for control. It’s… look, those rumors, that their first enchanter lost control? I doubt he was the first.”

She let out a dry laugh. “You think I don’t know what this is like.”

Garrus tugged her arm. “It can wait.”

But she kept her eyes on him. He felt nailed to the deck by the weight of her gaze. “Do you know how magic gets used in real wars?”

“It’s not the time.” Garrus’ voice was just as cold. And it had another note as well—one that expected to be obeyed. 

She huffed out a single breath through her nose, but apparently wasn’t willing to cross her one-time superior, at least not right now. Garrus addressed the group. “Keep an eye on Liara. Don’t leave this dock. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“We’ll be waiting,” said Ash, as the ship maneuvered into its berth and the sailors began to toss lines out to the readied help on dry land.

Nathaly wore the shirt she’d worked with clumsy embroidery, sky-blue floss stark against the white linen. A circle of barely-legible fucks, exactly as she’d planned, and an odd contrast to the elaborate and careful tooling of her leather armor. It was full kit today. Spaulders, vambraces, greaves and all. Kaidan only knew their names because one of the templars responsible for his apprentice group, nearly as young as his charges, used to recite them under his breath. He supposed the templar didn’t know the Ferelden terms. His accent was almost indecipherable when he got nervous.

But in short, she looked ready for a fight. Maybe even looking for one, by the set of her shoulders and the sharpness of her eyes. He glanced at Garrus. “Keep her out of trouble?”

Garrus laughed. Nathaly scowled.

“That’s affirmative,” he said, clasping his arm across his chest in a Ferelden salute. Kaidan’s ears reddened. But he felt a little lighter as they stepped off the ship, and vanished into the dockside crowd.

Kaidan sat down on a box to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The sun had slid to other side of the sky when Ashley finally stirred from their cabin below. Kaidan had spent the hours pacing the deck, trying to ignore the rumbling of his belly and the anxiety of his mind, growing larger every second Nathaly was late. He looked up. “It’s been too long.”

“Far too long,” she agreed, looking grim. “If they’re not back soon, we’ll miss the boat. Cargo waits for nobody. A full hold’s worth more than all our passages combined, many times over, and they get penalized if they’re late.”

“Something’s gone wrong.”

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t disagree. Instead, she crossed her arms and turned towards the city. Frowning in thought. “We’ll never find them. Kirkwall is a metropolis, and that’s true even when it’s not in chaos.”

“We can’t just leave them here.” He was appalled.

“I don’t believe you heard me say anything of the kind.” Her fingers tapped against her elbow. “I overheard one of the longshoreman say they’re rounding up anyone who so much as smells of criminal intent. Under the circumstances, just being armed and armored might be enough.”

“So, what, we go to the magistrate and demand their release?”

“You don’t go anywhere.” Nothing suggested it was anything less than an order. “This is not the place to be a mage right now.”

Based on the atmosphere, Kaidan suspected it had never been a place to be a mage. And he strongly suspected it would only get worse further in. But Nathaly came for him, when he had no business hoping anyone ever would, and he was damned if he’d leave her to her fate without doing everything he could.

Ash waited, almost like she was daring him to countermand her. He chewed his lip. Then his eyes widened. “The bags.”

He rushed down the stairs. Ashley only just kept up, more and more confused. “What?”

“They said they left everything here.” He burst into the cabin. Liara sat up, blinking in the sudden light. She’d gone pasty laying there. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

Kaidan glanced at her. “Where are the packs?”

She pointed. He tossed them aside until he found Nathaly’s, and dug into the pockets.

“What—” Liara started to say, only to be shushed by Ash, who watched him with narrow eyes.

Then he found it, standing with it clasped in his fist. “This. We can use this.”

Holding out a skein of bright blue embroidery floss.

She eyed it. “I don’t follow.”

Liara looked between them. “Will someone tell me what’s happened, please?”

“It’s almost evening, and they’re not back,” Ashley explained. “I don’t think they’re coming back. They’re in trouble.”

Her eyes focused on the skein. “Of course. Sympathetic magic.”

“What?”

Kaidan explained. “Nathaly sewed this into her shirt. Threads from this exact skein.”

“And she did it herself, with her own hands, so the connection will be that much stronger,” said Liara.

“Exactly.”

Ash rubbed her forehead. “Translation, please.”

“It’s basic magic theory.” Liara’s breathing was labored, her voice rasping. “An object riven in two will always want to be reunited. It’s part of how phylacteries function. A sensitized mage can trace that energy.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You’re saying this string can tell us where she is?”

Kaidan shook his head. “Not like you’re imagining. I can’t point to her on a map. It’ll be like…”

“A compass,” Liara supplied.

He threw her a grateful look. “Yes, a compass. Pointing due Nathaly.”

Ash looked between them. She wasn’t happy. “Let me guess. You can’t attune it to me. You have to come, too.”

“Would you rather go hunting without any guide?” he shot back, eyebrows raised.

She stared him down, something reminiscent of Nathaly in the look, but without nearly the same force. They’d clearly been friends a long time. Then she let out an exasperated sigh. “Get your gear. I’ll get the armor. Can’t have you waving around a staff and doing magic without a templar at your side.”


End file.
